That's the Dream
by BeneathTheUmbrella
Summary: One-shot. Ted tries to take a page out of Marshall's handbook. The story starts off a bit silly, but you'll soon see why. Enjoy!


_Note: this is unrelated to the other series I'm writing. I was having a case of writer's block and, after catching a rerun of "Double Date" on TV, this came to mind instead. I hope you guys enjoy this short and sweet one-shot (I definitely had fun writing it), and I think it inspired me to continue work on my next chapter._

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"See kids, right from the moment I met your mom, I knew. I have to love this woman as much as I can, for as long as I can, and never stop loving her, not even for a second. I carried that lesson with me through every stupid fight we ever had, every 5 am Christmas morning, every sleepy Sunday afternoon. Through every speed bump, every pang of jealousy or boredom or uncertainty that came our way, I carried that lesson with me. And I carried it with me when she got sick.

Even then, in what can only be called the worst of times, all I could do was thank God. Thank every god there is, or was, or ever will be, and the whole universe and anyone else I could possibly thank, that I saw that beautiful girl on that train platform. And that I had the guts to stand up, walk over to her, tap her on the shoulder, open my mouth, and speak.

And that, kids, is how I met your mother."

Ted looked up at his teenagers, a lump in his throat, as he relived the moment he first met their mom, the love of his life.

"That's it?" Penny asked.

"Yup," Ted confirmed. "That's it."

Penny narrowed her eyes, not unlike how her mother used to do. "I don't buy it."

"Oh?" Ted asked.

"Yeah," Luke agreed. "This story wasn't about mom. It's about how you want to finally move on, now, after an appropriate number of years, and you want to know if we're okay with it. Who is it, dad?"

Ted feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about, Luke."

"I know who it is!" Penny figured out. "It's that busty mailwoman that comes by the house everyday!"

"Alright, dad!" Luke shouted his approval.

"No, no, no," Ted denied. "I love your mom, and only your mom. I will never look at another woman again! Not like I looked at her..."

"C'mon, dad," said Penny. "Mom's been dead for an appropriate number of years. It's time for you to get laid."

"Yeah, dad," added his son. "Go bang that busty mailwoman."

As if on cue, the front doorbell rang. Ted jumped up from behind his desk, and ran over to the couch. He ushered the kids up and out of the den, frantically reaching for his wallet. "Here's some money," he told them, handing Penny a wad of cash. "Leave from the back, go see a movie, and don't come back for a few hours."

With the kids gone, Ted ran his fingers through his hair and checked his breath. Satisfied, he walked towards the front door and swung it open. There stood his mailwoman, in her short blue shorts, polo shirt unbuttoned and showing some sizable cleavage, her long blonde hair glistening in the sun. "I've got a package for Mr. Ted Mosby," she said throatily.

Ted looked up at the heavens above, gave a shaky sigh, and blew a kiss. "I'll love you forever, sweetheart," he said softly.

He now looked at the busty mailwoman before him. "And _I_ have a package for _you_: my penis!" He lunged at her, his lips at her neck. He sucked and nibbled, and she moaned in pleasure. "Oh, Ted..."

"Oh, busty mailwoman..." he mumbled.

"Ted... Ted!"

Ted's eyes shot opened, and Barney's face was now in front of him. Ted recoiled a bit, adjusting to his surroundings, the busty mailwoman from his fantasy presently working the pole on stage at the Lusty Leopard, the skimpy USPS outfit she was wearing earlier now tossed to the stage floor.

He, Marshall and Barney tried their best to have a bros' night out once a month. With the various responsibilities they each had on their plates, they were pleased that once per month was even feasible. So that evening, they had started out with laser tag, and then stopped by for a bite and a drink at MacLaren's, feeling a bit old (and slightly nostalgic) as they sat among a sea of twenty- and thirty-somethings, their old booth commandeered by a much younger group of friends.

They then migrated over to the Lusty Leopard, a place that had lost its appeal a long time ago, but still felt familiar—they briefly felt young again, and were transported to a time before wives, kids, and the suburbs. But the allure was quickly gone, as the lighting hurt their eyes, the other nearby men all looking either sad or pathetic, and the women up on stage weren't doing anything for them.

So Ted had attempted a trick that seemed to be the only way Marshall could fantasize about another woman: to picture his wife dead. However, as he looked at the writhing blonde up on the stage, he could only picture Tracy's smiling face instead.

"Sorry, buddy," Ted told Barney. "My mind wandered for a bit..."

"Tried to picture Tracy dead?" Marshall asked him knowingly.

"Yeah," Ted admitted, taking a sip of his drink. "Long illness, an appropriate number of years of mourning, the kids were teenagers and giving me the go-ahead to bang the hot mailwoman... _that_ was kind of disturbing."

"And?" Marshall asked.

"It worked for, like, five seconds," Ted said, and shrugged his shoulders. "But, I don't know: I prefer fantasizing about my wife—alive and healthy—rather than any of these girls."

"Yeah," Barney agreed. Marshall and Ted weren't surprised; their friend's wandering eyes had disappeared a long time ago. "All I see is Robin's face."

"And Stripper Lily really hasn't aged as well as real-life Lily," Marshall said with a shudder, looking over at Jasmine, who was still working at the Lusty Leopard, adjusting her boobs in her too-tight bustier.

Ted chuckled. "Well, gentlemen, it's official: we've outgrown strip clubs."

"Noooo!" Barney cried, a bit more dramatically than necessary. "I am almost 50! You guys are both 46! If we officially outgrow strip clubs, well, we may as well apply for our AARP cards early!"

"C'mon, Barney," Ted assured him, putting a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "We've still got laser tag. And beer and Trilogy Time. And we've got Thanksgiving dinners, backyard barbecues, kids' birthday parties, and summers at the Cape. We're getting older, sure; but it isn't all that bad."

"Yeah, I guess," Barney agreed. "And I _did_ get Marvin an awesome gift for his 12th birthday: he's getting my life-sized stormstrooper, solidifying my status as Best Uncle Ever! Suck on that, Teddy Westchester!"

Ted laughed and gave Marshall a knowing smile. Barney and Robin didn't have any kids but, man, they truly were the best uncle and aunt Penny, Luke, Marvin, Daisy, and Emily could ever ask for. So Ted never gave Barney any grief about his status as cool Uncle Barney; Ted and Tracy loved Marshall and Lily's kids as much as humanly possible, of course, but he had an inkling the kids meant a wee bit more to the Stinsons.

"Okay, guys," said Marshall, standing up and tossing a few bills on the table. "I guess this is our cue to start heading home."

They exited the strip club and the cool night air hit Ted's face, and so many memories were brought back to him. The late nights together as a group, stumbling through the streets past midnight, walking up the stairs to the old apartment a few short blocks away. It felt like a lifetime ago but, when they were together again on nights like these, they didn't feel so far away.

"Alright, my bros," Barney said, as he lifted up his arm and, as always, effortlessly hailed a cab. "I'll see you guys at Marvin's birthday party next weekend. High fives to the missuses and the kids for me, you hear?"

"Will do," Ted assured him. "Our love to Robin."

Fist bumps all around, Barney disappeared in the cab, and Ted and Marshall parted ways in the direction of their respective cars. Ted took his time getting to his car, enjoying the late hour and the stillness of the night. He often missed the city. Its beat during the day, and rhythm during the night. It was the city he called home for so long. It was where his career began, where he had many a success, and many _many_ failures. It was the place where he became a man; fell in love and got his heart broken, over and over again, until he found the one who healed it completely.

He was in the city as often as he could: he still taught at Columbia a few days a week, of course. And he tried to grab lunch or a drink with Barney whenever their schedules aligned. He and Tracy often brought the kids down to go shopping, visit the museum or Central Park, or take in the Christmas lights during the holidays. And whenever they found the time, Ted would bring his wife into the city for a dinner date or even an overnight stay without the kids. They'd sometimes take the same walk they took on their first date, walking round and round her old block, stopping to kiss in front of her old building, where they shared their first embrace.

Ted sighed as he got into his car and began driving, taking a quick detour to drive past the GNB building. He was proud to have left his mark in the city, an imprint that said "Ted Mosby was here", that was going to be part of the Manhattan skyline for years and years to come.

Nearly an hour later, just past midnight, Ted was back in his neighbourhood, the place he has happily called home since after Penny was born nine years earlier. Westchester had a different vibe than the city, clearly. And Ted could feel his age here; but he never feared getting old. As he matured, he realized that he _wanted_ to get to this point in his life, where he was settled and happy and not floundering. It was a pretty damn good feeling.

He drove into the driveway and parked the car. He thought back to the moments he taught Penny and Luke to ride their bikes on the driveway. The birthday parties he and Tracy hosted in the yard. The lawn he tirelessly mows every summer, as Tracy makes lewd catcalls from the window. Sharing a beer and a cuddle with his wife on the back porch late at night after the kids have been tucked in. As much as he missed New York City and the memories it held in his head and his heart, he'd never trade his life right now—and the new memories he's creating—for anything.

Ted entered the dark house, locking the door behind him and setting the alarm before creeping up the stairs. He peered into the kids' bedrooms, where they were each in a deep sleep. As he walked down the hallway towards the master bedroom, he saw the light peeking out from the crack of the door, seeming to welcome him home. She was waiting up for him, he realized with a smile.

He softly pushed open the door and watched from the doorway, and sure enough, Tracy was sitting up on her side of the bed, reading her tattered copy of _World's End_. He really needed to get her a new copy; she'd had that same one since way before he met her, and he was pretty sure it was going to disintegrate in her hands at any moment. He'd pick one up for her at the Columbia bookstore between classes tomorrow, Ted told himself.

"Hey, beautiful," he said from his post.

She looked up at him and smiled widely, the same smile she gives him in the mornings and in the evenings, day in and day out. And it continued to warm his heart, 11 years since the moment he met her. "Hey, pooh bear," she said, putting her book down and patting his side of the bed. "How was bros' night out?"

"It was nice," he said, walking towards her and sitting on the bed. "Happy to be home, though."

Tracy leaned in to give him a kiss, but paused and sniffed his shirt collar. "You guys went to a strip club!" she said in a teasing, knowing tone, pressing a finger to his chest.

Ted blushed guiltily. "How on earth did you know?!" he asked, amazed at her powers of perception.

"I can smell it on you, honey" she said matter-of-factly. She sniffed again. "Booze, smoke, sex, and shame. How was it?"

Ted laughed as he shrugged his shoulders. "All those girls are_ so_ young. Nothing exciting. Nothing compared to you," he said honestly, nibbling her neck.

"Uh-huh," she said with a giggle, pushing him away gently. "You mean you couldn't fantasize about any of those lithe, nimble figures on that stage? I can't believe that, Mosby."

"I tried!" Ted insisted. "I even tried using Marshall's trick, but all I could see was you."

"Ah, you kill me off," she said in a mock dreamy tone. "It's what every woman wants to hear!"

"Don't say that," Ted said seriously. The mere thought of anything happening to Tracy gave him anxiety. He had searched so long to find her, that if anything happened to her or the life they had built together, he truly didn't know how he could go on.

"Sorry," she said soberly, stroking his arm reassuringly. Tracy had dealt with great loss before, so she knew it wasn't anything to joke about.

"Anyway, I already have my dream girl," Ted told her, moving away from the depressing topic, and wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down. "So you're both my fantasy _and_ my reality."

"God, you're such a sap," she said lovingly. "And I can't believe that you can't fantasize about other women—it's perfectly healthy and you're more than allowed to, babe."

"Ah, I forgot," Ted said, feigning hurt in his voice. "You _very_ easily fantasize about other men!"

She smacked his arm playfully. "I can, but only while you're still involved somehow, and you know that."

Ted raised his eyebrow, ready to tease his wife and make her blush a little bit. He knew her fantasies far too well.

"Ah," he said knowingly, as he rolled them both over and lay his body on top of hers. "So, I'm holding your purse while you're getting it on with... Matt Damon, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Mmm-hmm," she confirmed as she began unbuttoning his shirt. "But you can finally leave the purse behind and join us."

Ted grinned wickedly, helping Tracy as he shrugged his shirt off. "_Niiice!_ My wife fantasizes about riding the tricycle!" he teased approvingly. "So how does it work?"

"Well, Matt works the rear," she admitted softy, moaning as Ted began undoing the drawstrings of her sweatpants. "But you're in front, because you know how much I love looking in your eyes when I make love to you."

Ted's heart warmed, but he still had to get one more jab in. "Hollywood stars always get the good stuff," Ted mumbled playfully.

Thinking back to his thoughts from earlier in the evening, Ted realized that with Tracy, he still felt like the 35-year-old who first met the girl of his dreams; young in spirit, young at heart. Despite the passage of time, his love for her was still as fresh as it was, he knew, from the moment he met her on that train platform in Farhampton. And in tender moments like these, she certainly made him feel young again, particularly in the way she lovingly gazed up into his eyes; his heart still skipped a beat, and he felt like a teenager in his first throws of passion.

"Hey, I'd like to think that I give _you_ the good stuff," she teased, reaching up to stroke his stubbly cheek.

He grabbed her hand and tenderly kissed her fingers, gazing down at her, and watching her eyes soften at the serious look he was giving her. "You always do," he said softly. "The _best _stuff."

_END_


End file.
